


Let Freedom Ring

by Filmsterr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Charming Dean, Crimes & Criminals, Delinquent Dean, Drunk Dean, First Meetings, Fourth of July, M/M, Police Officer Castiel, flirtation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-19 19:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8221673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filmsterr/pseuds/Filmsterr
Summary: It's Officer Castiel Novak's first night on the job-- and on the Fourth of July, no less. A night known for drunken antics and raucous activities. And there's one particular troublemaker that's proving to be a major pain in his ass.... and whose charming smile is proving particularly hard to ignore.





	1. Chapter 1

Castiel is an officer of the law. He has authority. He has a badge and a gun and he swears to uphold truth and justice in this small corner of the world as best he can. 

At least, that is what he repeats to himself into a mirror in the station bathroom, his fingers gripping the sides of the sink so hard they turn white. At the sound of a toilet flushing behind him, Castiel shakes himself out of it and walks back out into the lobby. 

As he strolls nervously over to the desk he’s just been assigned, someone claps him on the back and says gruffly, “Welcome to the force, Novak.”

Cas tries to respond in his deepest, toughest voice when he bites off a quick “Thanks”.

He sits down behind the old, rickety metal desk. There is probably something productive he could be doing right now, but his brain feels like it’s practically vibrating from nerves, so he just focuses on arranging the stack of papers on his desk into a perfectly organized rectangle. 

“Novak!”

He jumps at the sound of his name being shouted from above him. He looks up to see his new partner, Chuck, leaning on the edge of his desk with an easy smile on his face and a steaming mug of coffee in his hands. “So, first night on the job, huh?”

“Yeah,” Cas chuckles out uneasily. 

“And fourth of July, too?” Chuck’s tone makes it sounds like he’s been around the block a few times. It’s wise, a little jaded. “Tough gig. But, hey, you’re gonna do great.”

Castiel tries to look resolute, but he can feel the shifting expression on his face and how it probably does little to hide the way his stomach is in reality churning beneath his desk. 

Chuck gives him a knowing glance. “Anyway. We’ve got our first patrol in ten minutes. You gonna be ready to go?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

Again, Chuck laughs and shakes his head. “C’mon, we’re partners. It’s Chuck, please.”

Cas nods succinctly, but in all honestly he can’t shake the feeling that he’s talking to one of his dad’s friends or an instructor from the academy. He feels sure that in time though, he’ll earn his keep and be able to talk to Chuck, and the rest of the force, with his head held high. 

Eight minutes later, Cas is waiting out next to the patrol car, ready to go. Chuck comes out of the station and tosses the keys at Castiel, who fumbles to catch them. “You’re driving,” he tells Castiel with confidence. 

Cas’ throat is so dry at the idea that he can’t even manage to protest. 

The first forty minutes of the drive actually goes smoothly. The sun sets right after they get in the car, so it’s not quite dark for a while. The streets are quiet, just a few families making their way over to the town festivities. Castiel’s stomach settles the longer they drive, thinking that maybe this first night won’t be a disaster after all. 

That is, until they drive over to the field at the edge of town. 

It’s a big open expanse, and the perfect place to cause a ruckus, Cas thinks warily to himself. When they pull up to the end of the paved road, Chuck places a hand on the dashboard and turns to Cas. 

“Well, well,” he says slyly. “Looks like we’re about to run into our first trouble makers of the night.”

Cas grips the steering wheel a little more firmly. Chuck laughs at that and tells him, “Don’t worry about it. You’ve got this.”

A firework cracks into the sky above them. Castiel can hear the sound of men’s voice hooting and hollering not too far away. He directs the car closer to the noise and, once the whole spectacle is in sight, he puts the car in park. Chuck gets out first, and Cas follows his lead a few seconds later. 

He pauses a few steps in front of the car, until Chucks nods him forward. Castiel moves in slow increments. 

 _Alright_ , his internal monologue narrates. _You can do this. First night on the job. You are a cop. You are the hand of justice and you will teach these lawbreakers not to mess with Castiel Novak, LPD._

The sound of his thick swallowing echoes in his ears. He shakes himself and calls out to the men that stand in a circle across the field.

“Alright, fellas.” Even Castiel is surprised by how commanding his tone of voice comes out. “You all know that personal fireworks are illegal in Kansas. I’m gonna need you to stop the show now.”

Another firework pops off into the sky, as if punctuating Cas’ statement. It’s difficult to see in the darkening sky, but a figure walks toward him as a voice calls out across the field. All Castiel can see is two eyes shining in the dusk. 

“I’m sorry, officer. I don’t think I heard you.” 

Two more fireworks pop off. Castiel takes a few more steps forward. “Now listen here, you—”

“No, you listen here, boys,” that confident drawl comes toward him. “It’s the fourth of July. Lady Liberty’s birthday tonight. And we’re living in the land of the free, as far as I can remember.” 

“Sir, I’m gonna need you to—”

“So!” The voice continues, cutting Cas off before he can start. “I’m gonna light this roman candle off, and I’m gonna keep lighting ‘em off, and I’m gonna do it with a beer in my hand, and a blunt in my mouth. You wanna know why?”

Castiel feels the question was rhetorical, so he doesn’t bother to answer. 

“Because this is AMERICA!” The taunting figure yells the last word at the top of his lungs, and smashes a beer bottle as if to prove his point. Behind him, a few more male voice _whoop_ raucously. Castiel can see a short, blonde figure standing a few feet away from the ringleader. 

“Ay-ooo! You tell ‘em, Dean-o!” calls the smaller man. 

Castiel spares a look over to Chuck, who looks like he’s about to double over with laughter. Cas doesn’t know whether that makes him feel any better, but he knows he can’t let this drunken knucklehead have control of the situation. Not if he wants to be hold on to any of the respect he’s cultivated from Chuck so far. 

“Alright, listen up, Deano,” Cas says as he closes the distance between him at the men to whom he’s speaking. 

The ringleader, who had been bending down to light off yet another roman candle, stops suddenly. “How d’you know my name?”

Cas’ eyes bulge slightly out of his head. “Your friend _literally_ just said it out loud.”

The darkened figure— “Deano"— remains frozen for a moment. Cas doesn’t let the opportunity pass him by. He snakes around behind and grabs both of the man’s hands in one of his. 

“Hey!” The troublemaker yells out, trying to wrestle out of Cas’ arms. Then, suddenly, he relaxes his arms and his voice changes to sound almost syrupy. “Aw, sweetheart. Can’t ya buy me a drink before we bust out the handcuffs?”

Cas does _not_ let him see the way that his cheeks begin to grow flushed at that comment. In all honesty, the closer he’d gotten to this man, the more he could see how attractive the guy was, especially in the light of the contraband fireworks he was letting off. 

But obviously, that was not a thought that Castiel Novak, LPD, was allowed to have while on duty. And certainly not about someone he was arresting, for Christ’s sake. 

He tightens the handcuffs around Deano’s wrists. “Happy birthday, America,” he grumbles. 

———

All in all, his first night on the job goes pretty well. After he and Chuck haul Deano off to the drunk tank for the night, they don’t run into too much trouble after that. 

Now, the night is over, sunrise is just moments away, and Castiel can almost say at last that he’s made it through his first night on the force. 

Right now, he’s posted over at the jail cell while Chuck catches a few minutes of shut-eye in one of the break rooms. It’s an easy job, especially at this hour, and Cas could easily fall asleep himself if it weren’t for the responsibility of watching six drunk men sleep off their alcohol. 

“Ughhh,” a long, low groan comes from one of the two cells that Castiel’s guarding. His gaze shoots up, tries to see which would-be criminal’s griping he just heard, but none of them have moved. 

Castiel stiffens in his chair, but turns his immediate attention back to his work. Then he hears it again; softer, this time, more self-directed than anything else, “Where am I?”

He stifles a chuckle. The grumbling continues as he hops to his feet and wanders over to the jail cell. The griping continues, but by now the would-be criminal in question in sitting upright—or, mostly upright, head hanging low in shame between his hands. 

“That would be the Lawrence County Municipal Jail…” Castiel can’t keep a hint of mischief from edging at his voice as he says, “… Deano.”

Deano’s head shoots up at that. At first he looks blank, almost terrified, and then something else washes over him as he hangs his head again. “Ah, shit.”

“Yep,” Cas can’t help but to let out a soft chuckle. “Hope you had a real fun Fourth of July.”

Deano grimaces, raking a hand through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “Sure feels like it was fun.” He pauses for a moment, examining the cement walls around him. “You, uh… mind tellin’ me what I’m in for, officer?”

“Well, Deano…”

The criminal’s face tightens again at that, as if he feels a physical pain. “Er— don’t call me that. Just Dean is fine.”

Castiel leans into the cell door, just a few feet away from Dean and his aching head. He gives the other man a quick once over, taking note of how different he looks here, in the light of day. 

“You spend a lot of nights in the drunk tank, Dean?” 

 “Enough to know that you haven’t been around here too long, officer.”

Castiel scoffs. “Know every cop in town, do you?”

"The hot ones, at least.” Dean flashes a confident smile at him, and Castiel curses how unfair it is that someone as hungover as he is can still look so good. 

“Don't say things like that,” Cas scolds. “It’s inappropriate.”

“You stop blushin’ in that cute little way and I’ll stop sayin’ things like that.”

Despite himself, Cas can feel the rouging in his cheeks grow even deeper at Dean’s words. He can’t deny that Dean is a good-looking guy, and under different circumstances Castiel would be flattered by the attention, but… he'd just _arrested_ the guy, for God’s sake. 

“Are you listening to me?” he asks in a newly emboldened voice. “I’m an officer of the law. You need to stop.”

“Mmm,” Dean sighs dreamily, taking his head from his hands and leaning back against the concrete wall behind him. “I always did like a man in uniform. They let you take those handcuffs home at night?”

“Jesus Christ,” Cas breathes in disbelief. “You’re insufferable.”

Dean just shrugs and tosses a wink in Castiel’s direction. And _son of a bitch_ , if that doesn’t make him go just a little weak at the knees. So close to a successful first night on the job and here he is deflecting advances from Lawrence’s handsomest delinquent. 

This is _not_ how he had imagined his night would go. He lets out an involuntary sigh. 

Softening a bit, Castiel cranes his neck to look at the empty room around him. No one is awake in the entire station apart from him and Dean. He rests one of his hands on the bars of the cell and decides, just a little bit, to let his guard down. 

“Y’know,” he says, looking into Dean’s eyes and speaking in hushed tones, “you’re not being charged with anything. It’s not like you have to flirt your way out of trouble.”

Dean pauses at that, considering. He picks his head up a bit and narrows his eyes at Castiel. “What time are you outta here?”

“Huh?” Castiel's eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, but he looks down at his watch anyway and tells him, “Fifteen minutes. Why?”

“And any idea when I can check my ass out outta this joint?”

Cas takes a seat in his chair again. “I was told I could let you out as soon as you were up.”

Dean smiles and throws his hands into the air. “Well, I’m up, ain’t I?”

“Yes. Yes, you are…” There’s suspicion in Castiel’s voice, Dean seems a little too chipper for this early in the morning... But Castiel can’t hold him here for that, and he also doesn’t know how much longer he can keep up his facade of disinterest. He grabs the keys out of his pocket and goes to unlock the door. Dean springs to his feet in seconds, obviously ready to get out as soon as possible. 

Maybe flirting with Cas had been a ploy to get him out early, Cas thinks grimly to himself as he turns the key. Before he can even finish that line of thinking, however, a hand on his wrist forces his gaze up, and he finds himself eye to eye with the Handsomest Delinquent himself. 

“So, uh, how about breakfast?” Dean asks in a sultry whisper. “I can take you out for pancakes and keep saying things that make you blush.”

Castiel stares at him, a little dumbfounded. “Dean. I just arrested you last night.”

“I know!” Dean ‘s grin is infectious. “What a story for the kids!”

There’s a childlike wonder to him that Castiel is already a little hopelessly gone for.  He groans audibly, trying to at least make it appear like he's still fighting it…

Dean gives his wrist a squeeze. “C’mon. I need a big, greasy plate to cure this grade-A hangover I'm startin’ to feel. And you’ve got to be hungry after a long shift like this.”

Surprisingly, Castiel isn’t really hungry at all. Exhaustion is a must stronger pull on his mental faculties at the moment. He turns to Dean and tells him, “I don’t need food. I need my _bed_.”

“Well, jeez,” Dean murmurs mischievously. “Let's make it through the pancakes first and then we’ll get to the pillow talk.”

Castiel rolls his eyes in a very dramatic fashion, allowing a wry chuckle to escape his lips. “You’re going to be a lot of trouble for me, aren’t you?”

Dean finally extracts his hand from Castiel's and saunters confidently out of the cell. “Oh, without a doubt.”

And Cas couldn’t tell you why he found that confidence so charming, that kind of drunken good-ol’-boy demeanor so irresistible. But he walks Dean out of the station, tells him he’ll meet him at the diner in twenty minutes and goes back in to tell Chuck he’s heading out (Dean had stood leaning up against a police cruiser and called out across the parking lot, “I wasn’t kidding about those handcuffs!”)

Cas smiles inwardly as he directs himself back to his desk, where he’s surprised to find Chuck much as he had the night before: propped up against the desk with a large, steaming mug between his hands. 

“Headin' out?” Chuck’s voice is thick with sleep. 

"Yes," Cas answers. “Gonna grab some food, then go home and crash in my bed for a week.”

Chuck laughs at that. "Spoken like a true cop.” A calm moment of silence passes between them, and Castiel thinks, hopes, that he can feel the foundation of a bond being formed that might look something like mutual respect. 

“Hey, before you go—“ Chuck continues. “Status report: first night— what'd you think?”

The question gives Castiel pause. He takes a moment to think back on every moment, from the beginning of the night til now, before he opens his mouth to answer. “It was weird as hell,” he says at last. “Not at all what I expected. But I think I'm gonna like it.”

Chuck gives him a friendly nod and waves him off. Castiel smiles and turns around to walk back into the parking lot, where he can see Dean is still leaned against the car waiting for him. A thought catches him and he stops walking for a moment. He turns around quickly and grabs his handcuffs off of his desk, shoving them into his pocket and speeding out of the station with a deep new shade of red covering his cheeks.


	2. Bonus Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a few requests for additional material, and also I couldn't help myself. I couldn't think that the would be the last of Troublemaker Dean (;

It’s a cold winter morning when Castiel wakes up to find his bed a little too empty for his liking. The first thing he'd done when he woke up was to reach an arm out in search of warm skin to touch, only to come up short. He frowns deeply at that. He’d been hoping that Dean would have come by in the night for a sleepover, but, well, he supposes that’s alright. He’s got to be getting ready for his shift, in any case. 

He is treated to a good look at Dean's handsome face, however, as he is every morning when he opens his eyes and catches glimpse of the framed mugshot on his bedside table. It makes him laugh, it always does: Dean sporting a face he liked to call his Blue Steel. It had been a gift from an early anniversary, a memory of the first night the pair had met.

He likes to leave his apartment a few minutes early so he can swing by the local cafe to grab a decent cup of coffee (the coffee at the station is a far cry from anything he would call decent). He manages to walk in to the station at exactly nine on the dot, wearing a well-rested smile on his face. 

“Good morning, Cas!” calls Nancy, the secretary, with signature cheer from her desk. 

Cas returns her greeting with a kind smile, “Morning, Nance.”

He's almost to his desk, a little lost in his own mind, when he bumps directly into a firm chest. His eyes move up, to find himself in disarmingly close range with Officer Henricksen, who— in all honesty— Cas still finds a little intimidating, even after months of being on the force together. 

“Your boyfriend came by to visit you,” he tells Cas in a tone that shows he is not very amused by the situation. Cas’ face first contorts into confusion— _Dean should be at work at this time of day, what could he possibly be doing here?_ — but it’s seconds before the realization hits him and he drops his gaze in embarrassment. 

“I see,” he mutters to Henricksen’s shoes. “Sorry about that, sir.”

Henricksen nods stoically and brushes past Cas, who wastes no time in jogging over to the holding cell, where he is unsurprised to find a familiar flannel-wearing form. “Dean,” he whispers harshly against the bars of the cell. “What are you doing here? We talked about this.”

“Mornin’, baby,” comes the joyful, slightly-slurred reply. 

Cas wants to slump against the cell, wants to tell Dean, boyfriend-to-boyfriend, that he's making Cas feel embarrassed at work and he should have just come over to Castiel’s apartment last night and spooned him in his bed and whatever happened last night wouldn't have happened. 

But here, between these walls, he is not Castiel the Boyfriend; he is Castiel the Officer talking to Dean the Guy Who Can’t Seem to Stay on the Right Side of the Law. 

“Did ya bring me a coffee?” Dean asks in a voice that is far too adorable, his head lilting to the side as his green eyes give a little extra sparkle. 

Castiel looks questioningly down as the cup in his hands, and then back at Dean. “No. This is for me, not you. Because criminals don't get Starbucks delivered to them. _In jail_.”

“Aw, come on, handsome. Don’t be like that,” Dean presses. “Besides, ‘m pretty sure they don’t call it a criminal when it’s just a misdemeanor."

“ _How many_ misdemeanors?”

Dean opens his mouth, presumably to defend himself, but snaps it shut just as quick. Castiel raises his eyebrows at his boyfriend, but he finds his answer when he follows Dean's line of sight toward the person that’s approaching. It’s Chuck, Castiel’s partner, walking toward them with a sheet of paper in his hands, laughing to himself in what seems like good spirits. 

“Morning, Novak," he pauses his laughing fit to say. “Here, why don’t you give it a look for yourself? Sounds like Dean here had himself quite an evening.” Here, he shoots a glance over to the man in question, who responds with his Classic Dean smile, coupled with a wink. Chuck begins to laugh loudly again, and has to walk away to compose himself. 

Cas narrows his eyes at Dean. He does not find this very funny. He begins to scan the list of offenses on the paper in his hands. All the usual hits are there: ‘drunk and disorderly’, ‘resisting arrest’. Castiel grimaces at that one, makes a note to apologize personally to Henricksen for that later. 

"Oh my God!” He lets out a surprised gasp when he sees a new addition to his boyfriend’s rap sheet. “Dean! _Inciting a riot_? Are you kidding me right now?”

“Okay, _that_ ,” Dean raises a finger in defense, “is an exaggeration of the truth.”

Castiel’s head drops against the bars and his eyes close as he lets out a deep, shameful groan. "Oh, why didn't you just come to my place last night? And why didn't you call me when this happened?”

“I only got one phone call,” Dean shrugs like it is all too obvious. 

 _What?_ Cas jerks his heads up at that and spits out before he can stop himself, “Well then, who _did_ you call?”

And just at that moment, he hears a voice over at Nancy’s desk— an even, well-composed voice, that says, “I’m looking for Dean Winchester?”

Castiel shoots a look at Dean, who is now sitting with his eyes closed and his head leaned back against the wall. Apparently, inciting a riot takes a lot out of you. Castiel tries to get a good look at the person who's asking after Dean, but there’s a large column blocking his view. He doesn’t think he recognizes that voice, and he’s met all of Dean’s friends at this point. In fact, he’s a little shocked none of them are sitting beside him in the cell right now. They, too, are frequent flyers of the Lawrence Country Municipal Jail, for the most part. 

He doesn’t have to wait too long to have his curiosity quenched. It's just a few moments later that he sees Nancy escorting a man toward him at the holding cell: a tall man, very tall, who is a little too handsome for Castiel to like him hanging around his boyfriend. 

“Hi there,” the good-looking brunette offers shyly, “I’m, uh, here for Dean?”

Castiel is about to open his mouth, but Dean beats him to it. “Sammy!” he slurs at top-volume, happiness radiating from his entire face. 

The name’s familiar to Castiel, it takes a second of mental processing to recall the connection between Dean and the person in front of him. When it clicks, mortification spreads over Castiel’s face (even more than he had felt before, if you can believe it).

“ _This_ is your brother, Sam?” he asks in a desperate voice. 

Sam looks at Cas like the officer might be a little insane. “Um, yes?”

Dean stands up suddenly and approaches the bars of the door, still beaming. “Yep. My little bro. Look at him. He’s so… big.” Then he snorts, giggling to himself like a little kid. 

Castiel wants to slap a hand over his face to cover the redness that’s sure to be coating his cheeks, but he refrains. He offers an awkward smile to Sam and reaches a hand out for a shake. “I’m, uh, Castiel. I'm his… I’m dating your brother.”

“Oh. _Oh!_ ” Sam seems to have finally met the same conclusion as Castiel and quickly goes in for a frantic handshake. “You’re Cas. It’s so great to meet you. I, uh, wish it were under different circumstances.”

“Yeah,” Castiel huffs out an annoyed breath. “Me too.”

Dean does not seem to pick up on any of the awkwardness in the situation. He's staring at the two men on the other side of the bars like his complete happiness rests on their meeting. He is, apparently, under the impression that it is going well. 

“What d’ya think, Sammy?” he grins from ear-to-ear. “Didn’t I tell you he was hot?”

Sam laughs uneasily at the question, and Cas turns to his boyfriend and hisses a harsh, “Dean!”

Dean ignores the chiding, dragging his eyes slowly down his boyfriend’s form. “Look at 'im in that uniform. _Mmph_. He is _so_ sexy.”

Cas feels certain that if Hell exists, it will be an endless cycle of the unadulterated humiliation he feels at this exact moment. 

But Sam, bless his heart, appears to read this from Castiel’s face and turns toward Dean. “Oookay, I think it's time to get you out of here, Dean.” 

“I couldn’t agree more.” Cas takes the cell keys from his pocket and unlocks the door as fast as humanly possible. 

Dean saunters out of the cell and toward Sam, who throws an arm under him for support. “I think you guys like each other,” he smiles at the floor. Sam looks down at him and chuckles, shaking his head as he raises his gaze back to Castiel.

“So, I think we were supposed to have dinner tonight,” Cas reminds Sam aloud. “You know, to meet formally.”

“Yeah,” Sam waggles an eyebrow down to Dean, “I think that might have to get pushed back a bit. But, don’t worry, I'm in town all week. We’ll do it another night.”

“I'll make lasagna,” Dean raised his head to pup in with a slur, “Cas loves my ‘sagna.”

And begrudgingly, Cas lets a half-cocked smile slip at that. “Yeah, I do.” Checking the room around him for prying eyes (and finding none), he leans in quickly to dot a kiss on Dean's scruffy cheek. “I'll see ya later, okay? Try to drink a lot of water.”

“Mmkay, baby,” Dean murmurs with a dumb smile, “Bye, baby.”

Castiel chuckles and looks up toward the taller Winchester. “Nice to finally meet you, Sam.”

“You too, Cas." Sam agrees, shifting his brother's weight around a bit. "I’ve heard a lot about you. I’ll see you again soon.” 

Cas watches as they half-stumble out the door together and makes his way over to his desk, taking a sip from his coffee cup on the way. He sits down behind his computer, ready to start the day in earnest after this morning’s small hiccup.

All in all, he thinks to himself, it actually could have gone worse. Really, it was probably the most “Dean” kind of meeting that he could imagine. And even though he can still see Officer Henricksen glaring him from the other side of the room, he’s got a little smile on his face. 

Dean might be a little shit, and he definitely causes unnecessary trouble, but he's worth it. And also, Castiel is really looking forward to that lasagna. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading guys! I always appreciate any constructive criticism, feel free to leave kudos or a comment letting me know what you think (:


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